


A Gentleman's Portrait

by pearypie



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon Compliant, Ciel finds Lizzy, External dilemmas, F/M, Gen, Seb and Ciel banter, Sphere Music Hall, resolutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 09:59:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8097778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearypie/pseuds/pearypie
Summary: Sebastian and Ciel find Lizzy at the Sphere Music Hall and discover that the Undertaker has left her with a parting gift. “On the contrary, it is not his words I quote but the Bard himself.” Sebastian returned easily, carnelian eyes glimmering. “It may be too late to rewrite history but one can always improvise.”





	

_The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream._  — William Shakespeare 

 

* * *

 

Ciel noticed the ring around Lizzy’s neck before anything else. It was a large, rectangular cut diamond set in tarnished gold, with a carved fleur-de-lis on either side; the heavy jewel resided on a platinum chain that now hung round Elizabeth’s snow pale throat. She was unconscious, lying on the floor of the Sphere Music Hall, and bedecked in a fluttering pink gown that had been deprived of all color; the dress was off the shoulder with a large full skirt and French bodice. She would not have looked out of place in a fairy’s grotto, stardust in her hair and sweet peas growing round her rosette form. 

“Sebastian.” 

The demon bowed, slight and imperious, glancing briefly between his master and the fiancée before rushing forth to retrieve the girl in one smooth, practiced motion. She was light in his arms though her long skirts trailed down to the floor alongside a train several feet long, made out of diaphanous barege that was soft to the touch. _An interlude of pale pink, born from the sunrise._

Ciel approached them and ignored the butler’s sly half-smile, preferring instead to trace the cold diamond hanging round Lizzy’s throat like a noose. “The Undertaker.” He finally said. “Our great orchestrator.”

“I suppose what they say is true. We must take our current when it serves us, or else lose our ventures.”

“Quoting Brutus will do us little good. He’s been dead for too long a time.” Ciel cast a shadowed glance around the empty hall, noting the false virtue of this recherché atmosphere—from the pristine white marble to the stained cathedral glass: what a facade! What a fine, foolish facade.

“On the contrary, it is not his words I quote but the Bard himself.” Sebastian returned easily, carnelian eyes glimmering. “It may be too late to rewrite history but one can always improvise.”

“You think the Undertaker is attempting to reanimate his misgivings?”

“I believe he is trying to bring back those he cared for best.” 

“He’s insolvent in his affections.”

“Yes, but madness radiates and eventually consumes.” There was a dark tinge to Sebastian’s voice, hinting darker aspirations still to come. “I would not be surprised if his enterprise had taken shape through the weathering of several decades—perhaps centuries—of living and mourning alone.” He spoke wisely—insidiously—as the spirit that negates.

Instead of listening, Ciel put out one hand, gently stroking Elizabeth’s cold cheek before noting—with unconscious interest—that her gold hair was unbound. The loose aureate waves spilled down her back, with a few curls brushing the black wool of Sebastian’s suit jacket, painting a grotesque image of a final, macabre sunset.

It disgusted him.

“Come.” The earl commanded, one hand clutching at his jeweled walking cane, “we’ll leave this place to the rightful authorities.”

“My, my. Are you conceding territory?”

“No.” Ciel turned back around just as the last rays of the sun filtered through the magnificent cathedral windows, painting him in shades of violet-auburn. “I find it unnecessary to chase after the dead. Let Scotland Yard do something useful for once. Her majesty only wished I end the Sphere Music Hall—and now I have.”

“Yes.” Sebastian glanced down, marveling at the still perfection of the fallen angel in his arms, “though your battle casualties have risen by one.”

“She’ll be fine.” Ciel began walking, pace steady and sure as his brocade coat settled, with the passing of the sun, into a darker shade of blue—almost black as eventide fell. “I refuse to believe otherwise.”

The last statement, half-uttered as a silent admission of fault, piqued the butler’s interest as he followed behind, expression neutral. “Will you inform the marchioness of your progress?”

Ciel was silent, allowing the fullness of secrecy to overwhelm the empty hall before he gave a slight nod, one barely discernible in this violet dusk. “I shall—but in my own time. Elizabeth will reside at the manor until she is well enough to return home.”

Sebastian smiled, canines white and sharp. “And if her recovery is hindered?”

“Then I will make her well again.”

The demon could have laughed at such a statement though he managed to keep his peace. “Very well, young master.” _Very well indeed._

**Author's Note:**

> \- “We must take our current…” — spoken by Brutus in William Shakespeare’s ‘Julius Caesar’. (He is discussing the civil war he and Cassius are fighting against Octavian and Mark Antony. Brutus is urging Cassius to act now, when their forces are most advantageous.) 
> 
> \- “…as the spirit that negates.” — modified quote from Goethe’s ‘Faust’, spoken by Mephistopheles. (“I am the spirit that negates. And rightly so, for all that comes to be deserves to perish wretchedly; ‘Twere better nothing would begin. Thus everything that your terms, sin, destruction, evil represent—that is my proper element.”) 
> 
> A/N: I have no idea where this came from but it was fun to write!


End file.
